


No turning back

by SecretTeacup



Category: Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Gay Sex, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Sex, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27883522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretTeacup/pseuds/SecretTeacup
Summary: This takes place immediately after season three, after Hannibal and Will fall from the cliff. Told from Will’s point of view.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	No turning back

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at fanfic. I’m nervous and shy about sharing so please be constructive in the comments. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Pressed in by inky darkness on all sides, Will has lost all sense of gravity, direction, feeling, his sense of self.  
He can feel the moist blackness enveloping him in its womb and thought how calm death was, how inviting and peaceful. Who would have thought? Perhaps he should have enabled more people to find this bliss sooner, made all the more inviting following the recent physical agonies he had endured in the battle with the dragon.  
Here there was no throb in his cheek, no sting on his skin, nor the metallic tang of his own blood in his mouth. Here was only utter silence, emptiness, warmth, and the steady thump of his own heartbeat.  
‘Heartbeat?’ pondered Will. ‘Why would I need a heart if I’m dead?‘

‘You’re waking up. Darling boy, I thought you’d never come back to me’ a voice hovered near the ragged edge of Will’s consciousness, smooth as honey and just as sweet to Will. 

Will, realising he has simply been unconscious, fights to stay in his bubble of darkness, but clings to the emotions the voice has awoken in him. A confusing tumble of fear, excitement, ecstasy, longing and something Will can’t quite place. He knows he hasn’t experienced anything quite like it before, and knows he will seek its nourishment in every waking moment from this moment forth. He’d been in its uncompromising gaze for some time now, every time he’d been in Hannibal’s presence, but the full extent only become fully realised when they took down the dragon together in a beautiful haze of pain and pleasure. It feels like... completion. 

Will knew in those final moments before the fall he could never return to his self-built prison of lies, and knew his and Hannibal’s person suits would no longer fit, like ill fitting garments tailored for someone else.  
The dragon had intended to change them, and perhaps he had. Certainly they had changed each other. In now knowing himself and Hannibal to their very cores, Will knew the only possible way forward was over the edge, to end their beautiful story there at its triumphant peak. He knew Hannibal would accept this, not just because their souls were now bonded, but in the desperate way he clung to Will completely for a final embrace and did not attempt any resistance as Will took them both over. 

Will breaches the surface of his consciousness like a drowning man gasping for air. He feels his every wound prickle as he moves, but the curious peaceful bliss stays with him, and envelopes him entirely as Hannibal rests a gentle hand on his bare shoulder and murmurs to him to rest.

‘You’ve been through quite the ordeal, Will. Rest, now’. 

Hannibal’s voice is soft and comforting, and Will knows he is safe. They will try to kill each other again someday, no doubt, but for now Will will be coaxed back to full health by a capable doctor with the gentle caress of an expert lover. 

He is in a room he has not seen before, he is certain of it. He can smell salt in the crisp, clean air, and the gentle, hypnotic bobbing tells him they are at sea. 

‘Thirty miles off shore, Will. We have no need to concerns ourselves with being found. Jack will be comforted to believe we perished in the fall, and our FBI files will be closed before the end of the day’. 

‘How are we not dead?’ Will’s voice is hoarse and gravelly. Hannibal gently holds a glass of water to his lips and waits patiently for Will to drink, tenderly mopping the droplets that fall onto Will’s bruised chest. 

‘Darling boy. I’m thrilled you know your true self so intimately now, but you must realise I have known your soul for far longer. I knew you would take us over the cliff, even before you knew it yourself. I knew you would enlist me to chase a killer with you even before I handed myself in to Jack, and I made the necessary preparations before Baltimore. I couldn’t have known it would be the great red dragon, but I knew you could not stand to stay away from me for too long. You would always seek me out at the first opportunity you could tell yourself was necessary. It was choreographed from the first like a beautiful dance. This was MY design’. 

Like a slow motion replay Will recalls the moment they fall from the cliff, that moment of utter kismet, and the cogs of the universe gliding smoothly into place. He remembers wondering whether he should have risked pressing his lips to Hannibal’s in that final moment, knowing in a few moments it wouldn’t matter any more. 

He knows the reason he didn’t; Will knew if he allowed himself to become physical with Hannibal his curiosity and desire for more would not allow him to do what needed to be done. So, with the restraint of a hundred men, Will committed to their fall, and immediately felt immense regret at the feelings awoken in him as Hannibal pulled him tightly against his lean, muscled body as they plummet. 

Hannibal, in the fall, expertly shifted his body to guide them both under the cliff edge, where fishing nets are strung like hammocks just out of the line of sight from above.  
Their fall is broken and they tumble together in a heap on the nets. Their eyes meet and their hardness presses up against one another; Will knows there is no way back for him now. Maybe there never was, and he is glad they have survived. 

Hannibal presses his lips against Will’s with a feverish hardness, like a man who has waited desperately for this embrace. Will tastes blood, and heat, and desire. He returns the kiss with matched ferocity and moans urgently in Hannibal’s ear. He will give himself physically to Hannibal this very moment, and knows Hannibal will possess every possible part of him. He shivers deliciously at the thought, and his breathing becomes ragged as they kiss and feel and caress each other as though there is nothing left in this world but the two of them in this rock crevice, their blood black in the moonlight. 

Hannibal expertly guides Will, running his hands along the length of him and making Will gasp as he grips him firmly. Will nuzzles at Hannibal’s neck and moans as Hannibal moves his hand up and down the length of him, one hand firmly taking control, the other gently caressing him. Touching his lips, his hair, running his nails down Will’s chest back down to his impressive manhood. Hannibal firmly manoeuvres Will into position and maintains eye contact as he enters him. It is his turn to gasp at the sheer pleasure that rips through him.  
Hannibal has experienced many pleasures of the flesh, but never the sheer ecstasy of being the first man to explore this territory, nor the unmatched erotic pleasure in fucking his absolute equal. He has fucked people of no consequence, even people who have been in love with him before, of course, but never someone he has been so utterly possessed by this moment.  
From the moment he had rested his eyes on Will’s soft curls and firm thighs, he had known the sex would be good, but he could not possibly have predicted the effect fucking Will would have on his entire existence. He feels his entire life has been leading to this moment. 

As Hannibal slides back and forth over and over into Wills tight, resisting flesh his ragged gasps match Will’s completely. Their rhythm, slow and gentle at first becomes more urgent and desperate, pounding over and over, each time thrusting them both closer to completion. Will cries out, powerless to stop himself, and Hannibal surprises himself by almost coming at the realisation of how much Will is loving this. He forces himself to slow down, he is not ready to end this yet. He slides deep into Will, pausing a moment as he fills him completely. 

Wills wide eyes meet Hannibal’s, as he bites his lip and struggles to not come. He doesn’t want this moment to end, and when it does, he wants them to come together. He does not know how close Hannibal is, and he moans again as Hannibal jerks lazily inside him once more.  
Will’s body betrays him; his hips buck and arch to meet Hannibal’s every thrust, forcing their rhythm to speed up, faster and harder. Finally, with an animalistic moan, Will gives in and releases. Wave after wave of physical bliss engulf him, and he loses awareness of everything except Hannibal’s embrace. Hannibal quickly follows, with the same intensity of emotion, his face twisted in pleasure.

‘You almost killed me there, Will, trying not to come until you did. I don’t know how you held on so long’ Hannibal smiles affectionately. Will noticed he looks younger when he smiles, less wearied by the world. 

‘Me?’ Will is wide eyed. ‘I didn’t want to spoil it by coming too early but it was so, SO good’  
Hannibal laughs again. ‘Tell me, Will. How long have you desired me? Did I meet your expectations?’  
‘Oh you definitely did for now, but I have more’ ‘For the rest of our lives’ Will thinks to himself, and smiles wickedly, already making plans for the next time, and the time after that. 

They lie naked together under clear skies and bright moonlight, but unable to tear their gaze from each other, lazily discovering parts previously unexplored. Will’s damp curls rest on Hannibal’s freckled shoulder and he gently traces his fingers through Hannibal’s soft chest hair. Hannibal eyes hungrily feast upon Will’s perfectly muscled body, and he runs his finger along the scar on his abdomen that marks him out forever as his. 

As their energy returns to them, and the outside world begins to seep into their private cocoon, they realise they must move before they are discovered. They nimbly shimmy down the rope ladder attached to one side of the netting and clamber onto the little boat bound and bobbing under a stone ledge, hidden from prying eyes. 

Will recalls his amazement at finding the boat stocked with enough clothes, food and medicine to treat their wounds and keep them alive, healthy and hidden safely aboard for at least three months. More than long enough to allow their wounds to heal, let everyone think they are dead and plan for their new life together. Of course the sweaters are made with the finest lambswool and cashmere, Will notes with amusement. He has some ideas about how they will keep each other entertained, and climbs aboard, smiling wickedly to himself, hoping that the food lasts a long, long time.


End file.
